Decline of Our Democracy

 

I shall not write about the loss

of a woman’s Right to Choose

handed down by the right-wing

Supreme Court. Nor shall I ad-

dress in detail the repeal of the

Voting Rights Act by the same

body several years before.

I shall not bring up the failure of

Congress to enact meaningful

common sense gun legislation,

or pass bills on critical environ-

mental climate change issues.

I shall not elaborate on the

Department of Justice failure

to indict leaders responsible for

the January 6^th Coup and Insur-

rection to overthrow the US

election, and the further dis-

mantling of our Democracy.

And what about the removal of

the filibuster in Congress to ef-

fectively pass critical legislation

which is needed to serve the

majority of Americans today?

And so instead, I shall write about

the mechanical workings of pistons,

just one more thing to obfuscate and

further confuse meaningful matters,

the vital issues which face and endan-

ger our society today.

In any case, I hope this urgent message

happens to effectively find its way to

you the voter. The piston shit I wrote

about yesterday, and the Fox News BS

telecast every day be damned. It’s all

just a further diversion we can manage

to do without all the same.

                               -30-

Chris Hanch 7-18-2022

Pistons If You Please

 

Thinking about pistons today,

all around the world, up an down,

pistons clacking away.

Motor driven pistons, in synchronous

motion, I convey.

Without pistons, where on Earth would

we humans be

as an advanced, mechanical society?

Cylindrical heads and undulating

rods of steel, sparked by an explosion,

providing motion to

drive shaft, trans axle and wheel.

Pistons are what it takes to

motivate the automobile.

Unless, that is, you happen to have

a Wankel or some other rotary engine

to make your machinery run.

I hereby proclaim today as world-wide

piston day.

Who in hell writes a poem about

pistons, anyway? A died in the wool

mechanic would if he could, I suppose.

See your authorized piston dealer

today.

And don’t forget to check the oil level

before you engage.

Pistons, man. Don’t leave home without ‘em.

                                -30-

Chris Hanch 7-17-2022

Somewhere In Between

 

The blazing heat of summer makes me

wish for winter snow. When the bitter

cold sets in, I wish again for a warm

summer breeze. I have no wishes in

autumn and spring.

Seems midway between seasons are the

most suitable for me, not too hot, not too

cold, just right—The Goldilocks Zone,

you know.

Does this mean my preferences are to be

found somewhere in the middle then? Is it

so, that the satisfying permanence of per-

fection in the middle is impossible to be

achieved? Then indeed, variety must be

the spice of life.

One thing I somehow can appreciate that

which is, and the other remains the promise

of that which is yet to come.

Is the middle of a poem its best part or

should the beginning and the end be

considered the better?

I began this piece with the blazing heat

of summer. I’ll save it as a reminder as

to how that makes me feel when winter

plummets into the frozen below-zero

wasteland. Then, I’ll look forward to

the promise of spring.

The best and worst in life, as concerns

being somewhere in the middle, like the

weather are fluctuating and cyclical.

Good thing humans like you and I are

an adaptable species.

I’ll have to accept the fact that some

poems (including several of mine) are

considered pure crap. I suppose, to

begin with, one has to accept before

they can adapt.

                           -30-

Chris Hanch 7-16-2022

Quiet Corner

 

He sat alone in a quite corner of his room,

settled into a quiet corner of his brain,

soothing music playing, visions of

cattle grazing in green pastures,

blooming memories of people and

places, bygone days of goodness

and grief. All life is worth remembering

he believes. Without all his experiences,

where on Earth would he be? Disabilities,

old age and all considered, he feels fortunate

to be who and where he is—old and gray,

settled into the quiet corner in a life of

his own making. The sun, moon and stars,

the good green Earth, and the quiet twilight

of eternity often come to mind.

                            -30-

Chris Hanch 7-12-2022

 

Lights Out

See that little dot over there?

See that minute swirl up and to

the left?

Those and so many more

were recently taken by the

James Webb Telescope

showing stars and galaxies as

they were some 4.6 billion

years ago.

Living glowing proof that

mankind, we here on Earth,

shall in our lifetime never

ever truly catch up to the past.

Light years into the future,

or perhaps right now, some

beings out there may see us,

an itsy-bitsy, teensy-weensy,

insignificant, little speck of

dust in a long-gone galaxy

lost in space.

Some other outer one to wonder

if our life insurance policy had

been paid up, with no one to

kiss us good night before the

lights went out?

Us with all the unknown,

Earthbound us, suspended

alone in the vast and end-

less darkness of space.

Gives one pause to wonder:

Are we the past with others

looking back at us?

                    -30-

Chris Hanch 7-12-2022

Says Who?

 

The kitchen faucet drips incessantly.

The Ferrari wins the race.

The last page of the novel has been read.

A friend or family member dies unexpectedly.

Pass the mustard, please.

A squirrel is flattened on a back road

in rural Montana, no one knows, no one cares.

The sunset in the West has come to an end.

The skyscraper, a tribute to mankind’s ingenuity,

glistens in the light of the sun.

Even after the death of millions, Hitler got

what he deserved.

Repeat that last question, please.

This is not what the Founding Fathers had intended.

Even your best shot was not good enough.

Everything is a random happening.

Mostly, the laws of mankind do not apply.

Face it, you’re just along for the ride.

The window was left open overnight.

With or without you, the monologue goes on and on.

A full house beats three of a kind.

You’ll be happy to hear, after all these years,

James Taylor finally got a mocking bird which could sing.

And sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

Don’t ask me, you’re on your own.

What’s up with five lines after five lines then three at the end?

You know, the best tomatoes are generally home grown.

A happy ending is not a given, my friend.

                                          -30-

Chris Hanch 7-11-2022

What is Left to Say

 

On Facebook today, I reviewed

and posted a Memory I had originally

posted 7-years ago. Since that time

many things have changed for you

and for me. As the old saying goes,

Time and tide wait for no man,

(or woman as well, I might add).

Today, I would say, and this comes

as no surprise to either of us, that

the number of days allotted us has

dwindled appreciably, leaving us

closer to the inevitable.

With a certain measure of surety,

I can say that the likelihood is that

I shall not be around 7-years from

now given my advanced age and

condition to re-post this offering

of mine today.

Who knows, perhaps even Facebook

will have since crumbled into the dust

bin of obscure history. And thoughts,

words and pictures we have shared here

today shall never again appear.

So, here’s to today I say, to 7-years ago

today, to 7-years forward, to the young,

old and in between who are thriving

and still alive with something profound

or mundane to say.

                            -30-

Chris Hanch 7-7-2022